The one-armed old man, who had confined himself to one place for forty years, stood on a longsword suspended in midair.
He called out, "Wang Xianzhi! Li Chungang has come to the East Sea. I'll borrow every sword in this city to fight you!"
Nearly two thousand swords flew from their sheaths across Martial Emperor City, forming an astonishing curtain of blades in the sky.
Outside the city gate, an old donkey plodded toward the city.
San Lu rode backward on the donkey. Looking at the empty scabbard at his waist, he grumbled, "Master, I paid a full seventeen taels of silver for that sword! Wasn't Li Chungang borrowing swords from inside the city? I haven't even entered yet!"
The middle-aged man held a peach blossom branch in one hand and led the donkey with the other. "Sword God Li is a senior of the Sword Dao. So he borrowed your sword. Why make such a fuss?
"When no one's looking, I'll pick up a good sword for you."
"You said it, Master."
San Lu grinned and looked up at the vast curtain of swords blotting out the sky above the city.
He asked quietly, "Master, if they really fight, who has the better chance of winning?"
The middle-aged man smiled. "Unless they fight to the death, old Wang has a much better chance."
"I see. So Li Chungang isn't all that impressive!" San Lu said with a dismissive curl of his lip.
The middle-aged man sighed. "You children have no idea what it means to say, 'Had heaven not given us Li Chungang, the Sword Dao would have remained dark for all eternity.' Countless brilliant swordsmen have appeared over the past five hundred years, but only this old senior's mastery of the Sword Dao has come close to Lü